


Inexplicable Fascination

by dracoqueen22



Series: Taste Test [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 01, Tactile, interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream doesn't like ground-frames; Knock Out can't stand aerials. There are exceptions to every rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inexplicable Fascination

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the kinkmeme, I spruced this up and got inspired to write much, much more. This takes place in season one, sometime before "Out of His Head"

“Knock Out, I have come to a decision.”   
  
Amused, Knock Out continues to sort through the array of medical equipment spread out over the console in front of him. “Oh? And what might that decision be, _herr commandant_?”   
  
He can almost hear the twitch his offhand disrespect causes, and he definitely hears the low growl in Starscream's vocalizer. “I loathe you.”   
  
“Why Lord Starscream that comes as no surprise to me.” Knock Out sets down his laser cutter and turns toward the Seeker, his optics gleefully raking the mech from the tip of those glorious wings to the curve of those delightful pedes. He's no grounder, that's for sure, but there is still something... appealing about Starscream. “Are you informing me that this is a recent discovery?”   
  
Those wings sweep upward in a barely perceptible twitch of irritation. “Hardly. I merely wanted to establish a fact.” Servos behind him, Starscream strolls completely into the med bay, door sliding shut behind him.   
  
He goes silent for a moment, a first for the ever garrulous Seeker, his optics sweeping around the medbay as though he's never seen it before. Hah. Starscream's many, many trips to the medbay back when Megatron was up on his pedes are practically a legend on the Nemesis.   
  
A part of Knock Out eagerly awaits the inevitable awakening of Megatron because he simply can't wait to get his hands on Starscream's plating. To fix him, of course. Why else would he want Starscream broken, bent, and bleeding energon in his medbay?   
  
Tilting his helm to the side, Knock Out regards the perusing Seeker with a raised optical ridge. “Is there something I can help you with?”   
  
Starscream glances at the door to the single private room, where the wounded Megatron rests in silent repose, before focusing back on Knock Out once more. “I have a proposition.”   
  
“I'm listening.” Could this be another one of Starscream's glorious plans? Well, Knock Out is all audials. He folds his arms across his chestplate and waits.   
  
Starscream doesn't bother to hide the long, lingering sweep his optics give Knock Out's frame. Well, why should he? Knock Out is one fine example of Cybertronian engineering! And he wears his Earth kibble quite well, if he does say so himself. Which he does.   
  
“I am not blind to your appeal,” the Seeker says. “Despite your propensity to being groundbound. Therefore, I propose that we interface.”   
  
Knock Out smirks. He hadn't been expecting that but he won't exactly call it unwelcome either. However, it won't do to let Starscream know just how welcome it is. “Who says I'm interested in aerials?”   
  
Starscream steps closer, tilts his helm, and lifts a single arm. One servo reaches out, a slim digit flicking Knock Out's right tire and causing it to rotate lazily. Something about the casual nature of the action, the way Starscream all but looms over him, sends a quiet, but audible purr through Knock Out's engine.   
  
Touche, dear commander.   
  
“Point taken,” Knock Out concedes, though he won't correct Starscream on the matter. It's not all Seekers, but something about Starscream which is strangely appealing. However, to correct Starscream's assumption would inflate the pretend lord's already vastly overblown ego. And there's only room for one mech on this ship with a proportionately high opinion of himself.   
  
Starscream flicks Knock Out's tire again, the lazy spinning of the wheel a perfect accompaniment to the building tension within Knock Out's frame. “You agree then?”  
  
Knock Out has always preferred a more demonstrative answer. He steps closer, directly into Starscream's personal space where he feels the light buzz of Starscream's energy field, vibrating with eager arousal. He lifts a servo letting his digits drag down the flat planes of the Seeker's ventral plating.   
  
“Let me tell you something about medics,” Knock Out purrs, dialing his vocalizer down so that it reflects a certain resonance that no mech has ever been able to resist. His servo, at the same time, pulses a low vibration against Starscream's plating, sure to reverberate to the finely tuned sensors behind his armor. “We don't dither around.”   
  
Starscream's optics flare, his faceplate curving with an approving smirk. “Neither do Seekers,” he says, and moves quickly, his palm impacting Knock Out's chestplate between his headlights and knocking him a step backward, where he collides with his console.   
  
Engine revving at the half-eager, half-forceful action, Knock Out hooks a digit in the protruding jut of Starscream's pelvic plating and pulls the Seeker against him. Their armor collides with a tantalizing crackle of static. Desire floods through Knock Out, leaking into his energy field and tangling with the want-take-hunger bleeding out of Starscream's own.   
  
Well. So long as they're both on the same datapad here.   
  
Knock Out's glossa flicks over his lip plating and he arches against the Seeker, grinding their frames together, eliciting more of those delightful energy arcs. “Convince me,” Knock Out purrs, a challenge.   
  
Heat radiates from Starscream's plating and one hand gropes at Knock Out's ventral armor, spindly digits dragging across what would be his grill in his alt-mode. Knock Out's engine stutters before roaring into arousal and he undulates against Starscream, eager for more. Of anything really.   
  
He pulses _challenge-need-now_ through his energy field and is rewarded by a tangible shudder across Starscream's plating. The Seeker reaches past him, one servo gripping the console for balance, as Starscream looms over Knock Out, trapping him. Mmmm. Very nice. He's got nowhere to go but against Starscream.   
  
“Color me surprised, Knock Out,” Starscream says, his vocalizer a tad staticky. “One would think you'd fear scratched plating.”   
  
Trust Starscream to be verbose in everything, even a casual interface such as this. Lucky his tones are not so audial-grating when they're purring with desire.   
  
Knock Out ventilates loudly and reaches up, grabbing hold of a wing and pushing vibration directly against a sensitive node. Starscream all but keens, pressing his frame harder against Knock Out, electricity leaping from his plating onto Knock Out's.   
  
“There are occasions in which sacrifices are to be made,” Knock Out replies, letting his digits wander, exploring the expansive planes of Starscream's wings, relentless in his manipulation of those sensor clusters. “We can't all be as finely polished as myself.”   
  
A burst of static emerges from Starscream's vocalizer and he pulses hard, fast, bombarding Knock Out with desire. His energy field is soaked in it and Knock Out writhes, the arousal mixing with his own and setting his engine to revving loudly, making the tools behind him rattle.   
  
Heat radiates from Knock Out, his circuits tingling, and slag, he hadn't thought it would be like this. Fraggin' Seekers. Is this what he's been missing?   
  
“Well,” Starscream says, a touch of static in his vocalizer still though Knock Out prudently doesn't mock him for it. At this point, he wants his fraggin' overload! “This is... unexpected.”   
  
Knock Out's free servo hooks up and under Starscream's upper ventral plating, toying with thick lines of cabling and barely brushing the sensitive energon lines that lead straight to his spark chamber.   
  
“Enough stalling!” Knock Out all but snarls. “Plug in already!” His demand is punctuated by the sound of plating in his left arm shifting aside to reveal his open port.   
  
Starscream's helm leans closer, optics wide pools of crimson. “Stalling?” he repeats, his grip on Knock Out's hip tightening, stressing his armor. “Hardly.”   
  
The Seeker's cable snakes out from beneath his chestplate, sliding across Knock Out's exploring servo and teasing his sensitive digits with buzzing electricity. Knock Out shudders, but no more so than when Starscream's cord finally connects with his port, inundating him with a flood of arousal and pleasure so strong, he reels.   
  
“Your turn,” Starscream purrs, sounding too proud of himself as armor parts at a nearly invisible seam, revealing the port behind it.   
  
Fragger.   
  
Aggressively pinching a wing tip and assaulting the sensor node, Knock Out's cable emerges, and he connects with ease, completing the feedback loop.   
  
Instantly, arousal stabs through his sensor net, flaring across his energy field. Electricity crackles over his frame and Knock Out shudders, arching against the Seeker. Heat cascades through his systems, and he trembles on the cusp of overload. He bundles it all together, pushing it across their light connection, neither of them trusting the other enough to lower a single firewall.   
  
Pleasure, it seems, is the one thing capable of shutting Starscream up as the only noise that emerges from his vocalizer is a needy whine that Knock Out can't be bothered to mock. The sound is too fraggin' sexy and it shouldn't be, but it is.   
  
Starscream grinds down against him, urgency in his movements, more energy crackling across their frames. He's ventilating loudly, and Knock Out's own engine pushes heat throughout his frame.   
  
Starscream shoves more arousal at him. More pleasure. The feedback of sensation he's getting from Knock Out's grip on his wings, and Knock Out can almost feel it for himself. Hurts, but in a good way.   
  
“Harder!” Starscream snarls, smashing Knock Out between the console and himself.  
  
“Faster!” Knock Out hisses in return, not to be ordered around by Starscream, even if the Seeker is supposed to be his commander. But especially not during an interface.   
  
This is, of course, when the medbay doors slide open with an audible ping. Both Starscream and Knock Out swing their gazes toward the unexpected visitor.   
  
Hmm. One of the Vehicons. They all look the same so it's difficult to tell which one precisely, though Knock Out thinks he might recall repairing this one a few orns back after Starscream slapped him six ways to Moonbase. Taking after their dearly comatose leader, Knock Out assumed.   
  
The Vehicon pauses and stares pointedly, giving both of them a long, lingering look. Though Knock Out doesn't fail to miss that he seems more focused on Starscream. Hmph. Fraggin' Vehicon wouldn't know an example of mechanical genius if it pummeled him with an energon prod.   
  
“Well?” Starscream demands impatiently. “Are you going to watch or do you have another purpose?”   
  
Knock Out, however, doesn't miss the flare of arousal in Starscream's energy field. The Seeker likes to be watched. Heh. Good to know.   
  
“Hmm. I don't know if he has what it takes,” Knock Out comments, and slides his leg against Starscream's with a tantalizing rub of metal on metal. The burning arousal between them continues to simmer, teasing them with crackles of electricity and surges of heat across primed circuits.   
  
The Vehicon audibly performs a systems check. “Oh, uh, don't mind me. Just need this datapad over here.” He grabs said datapad, heads back toward the door, only to hesitate. “Uh...”   
  
The door opens again, this time with Breakdown barreling inside with little grace as he always does (despite Knock Out's attempts to impress upon him the value of being otherwise).   
  
“Oy! What's keepin' you!” Breakdown barks, and then seems to notice the two mechs in the middle of something important. “Hmph. About time,” he grunts, then grabs the staring Vehicon and proceeds to drag him from the room. “And the next time you decide to frag Starscream you better let me know ya selfish slagger.”  
  
If a door could slide shut with an annoyed air, it proceeds to do so behind Breakdown. Resorting to name-calling? Well, Knock Out will be sure to see to some payback. But later. Right now, he has an overload that needs achieving.   
  
And so does Starscream, if the sudden burst of renewed heat and frantic desire pushing across their connection is any indication. Knock Out arches up on his pedes, a moan echoing from his vocalizer as his heated systems pulse an eager demand for pleasure.   
  
“No more distractions,” Starscream rasps, digging his spindly digits into the gaps of Knock Out's armor and mercilessly tugging on sensory lines.   
  
“Agreed,” Knock Out retorts and flares out his energy field, pushing as much need into it as he is capable of bearing. He tilt his helm upward, spies the thin cabling in Starscream's neck and aims for it with denta and glossa.   
  
Starscream hisses but tilts his helm back, obviously pleased by this, and the shudder that races across his frame is tangible. More electricity arcs between them and Knock Out feels Starscream's pleasure as his own. He nibbles at Starscream's neck and is pleased when the heat that had built between them easily rises back into play.   
  
Trapped between Starscream and the console, the heavy table pressing against his dorsal plating, Knock Out twitches and writhes. He's so close to overload, can feel the impending ecstasy dancing on the edge of his systems. His cooling fans are buzzing in an effort to cool his heated frame and Starscream's grip on the console dents the metal with a perfunctory thud.   
  
Knock Out pours a strong pulse of _need-desire-more-now_ across their connection and moans as Starscream returns with a dizzying crackle of unadulterated pleasure. Knock Out bucks up against the Seeker, metal clanging together in an intoxicating push-pull of sensation. His circuits are crawling with building charge and Knock Out latches onto Starscream's neck cabling with his denta, applying just enough pressure to--   
  
Starscream growls and slams down against Knock Out, his grip on the medic tight enough to dent armor, compress sensory relays beneath with a processor-jarring clash of pain-pleasure. Knock Out jerks, heat and electricity slamming through his systems and shoving him right across the threshold.   
  
Refusing to go down alone, Knock Out squeezes Starscream's wing tip, pulses out a strong buzz from his fingers, and drags Starscream into a turbine whirling overload with him. Their energy fields flare outward, rattling the walls, and there's a prick of pain where Starscream's claws scrape something under Knock Out's plating, but he's too buzzed to care.   
  
The overload leaves his circuits buzzing, his systems pinging him for some energon, and an overall sense of satisfaction resting in his processor. Leaning back against his console, Knock Out tries to let his cooling fans work, the transmission of sensation across his and Starscream's connection slowing to a barely detectible trickle.   
  
That had been... surprisingly processor-blowing.   
  
Starscream recovers as well and takes a step back, releasing his hold on Knock Out's plating and causing the medic to wince. That's... going to need some fixing. He sends a ping to Breakdown with commands to get his aft back down to medbay. Like the Pit Knock Out's going to leave the room with scratches in his plating and a dent in his armor.   
  
“Hmm. Adequate,” Starscream says, disconnecting from Knock Out with a perfunctory snick and spooling his cable back under his chestplate.   
  
Knock Out gives him much the same courtesy, reeling a bit from the loss of external sensation. “Marginally adequate,” he corrects because if Starscream's going to be less than complimentary than Knock Out's going to be equally so.   
  
Starscream tilts his helm, looking down on Knock Out with inscrutable optics. “This, medic, changes nothing. I still loathe you,” he says, while his cooling fans continue to work their hardest to whisk away the extra heat.   
  
Hard to take him serious like that. Still...  
  
Knock Out raises a servo, dismissing Starscream as he examines the tips of his digits for unacceptable paint transfers. “And I barely respect you, Lord Starscream.”   
  
The Seeker turns away, servos behind his back, the very picture of nonchalance. He pauses, however, half-glancing over one pointed shoulder. “Same time next week then?”   
  
Knock Out's exhausted engine gives a tired, barely audible rev. “I'll be sure to clear my schedule.”   
  
After all, he might prefer grounders, but he'll make an exception for Starscream. As many times as it takes.   
  
And maybe next time, he can convince Starscream to let Breakdown join in. The idea of being trapped between them sets Knock Out's circuits to tingling.   
  
Ah, a mech can dream.   
  


***


End file.
